


Winning the Peace

by Deflare



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Ecology, F/F, F/M, Gen, Historical References, M/M, Original Horde Clone Characters, Politics, Post Season 5, Romance, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Season 5 Spoilers, somber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24393175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deflare/pseuds/Deflare
Summary: Winning the war was just the first step. Now it's time for Etheria to rebuild. Unemployed Horde soldiers, kingdoms stepping down from war footing, the legacies of fallen empire... The war is over, but the struggle for a better world isn't.A series of vignettes set in post-war Etheria.---Ch. 1: Lonnie questions what's next as she helps refugees get aid in Bright Moon.Ch. 2: Perfuma is working herself to the bone reviving the Fright Zone ecosystem.Ch. 3: Hordak lives in the heart of Dryl as a scientist, but newly-freed clones see him as a guiding light in their freedom.
Relationships: Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra), Hordak & Wrong Hordak (She-Ra), Kyle & Lonnie & Rogelio (She-ra), Kyle/Rogelio (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 157





	1. Decommissioned

Lonnie had never been so happy to see Bright Moon. The elegant spires of the castle shimmered in the setting sun, seeming to glow in the light that reflected off the vast lake. Even the weird floating rocks that clung to the mountains around the palace had an inviting warmth to them.

“All right, folks!” she called over her shoulder. “Last leg of the trip!”

A tired cheer arose behind her. The band of civilians was exhausted from days of walking and dealing with the errant remnants of Horde Prime’s mechanical army, but at last, they would get a chance to rest.

Lonnie tapped at the path in front of her, making sure the mountain path would hold the weight of the caravan’s wagons and jury-rigged mechanical transports, before leaving a mark with chalk and continuing ahead. She was the pathfinder, finding the way toward their destination: The large encampment across the causeway from Bright Moon’s palace, covered of a riot of multicolored tents and hazy with the smoke of cooking fires. The refugee camp was offering succor to those displaced by the war until things could be stabilized. Hopefully, they had room for one more group.

And hopefully, they wouldn’t turn away a couple of former Horde soldiers in the mix. The last time Lonnie had seen that clearing, it’d held a Horde army ready to destroy Bright Moon. But half the people Lonnie had known in the Horde wound up on the Rebellion’s side before the final battle, so they’d probably be fine.

Probably.

As they made their way into the camp proper, the first thing that struck Lonnie was how many Bright Moon soldiers were bustling about.

What struck her second was how many of those soldiers were unarmed and unarmored, instead carrying sacks of supplies, or sitting down to rest and speak with the civiilians.

A harried bureaucrat assigned a plot of land to the group under her protection and promised someone would be along soon to sort out what resources and medical aid they needed. “We encourage you to share what supplies you have with your neighbors,” they added, “and they’ll do the same for you. We’re all in this together.” If they noticed Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio’s Horde uniforms, they didn’t say anything about it.

Lonnie didn’t particularly need payment for the service of guiding the refugees, but their leader insisted; it took Lonnie a few minutes to haggle her down to a token fee. By the time she was done, her squadmates had the tent set up, and Kyle was feeding Imp mashed-up vegetables. At least, he was trying to; Kyle and Imp were both splattered with orange goo, the baby was mimicking various scary animal noises while he wiggled, and Rogelio was holding the kid at arm’s length to avoid getting involved with the mess.

Honestly, Lonnie had trouble blaming Imp. She’d tasted all kinds of new and exciting things since leaving the Horde, but vegetables ranked near the bottom of things she wanted to eat. They were better than ration bars, though not by much. But supposedly, it was important for kids to eat them. None of the trio were exactly sure if Imp was a ‘kid’, but it seemed safer to treat him as such until they knew otherwise.

Kyle was the one to ask the question that had haunted Lonnie since they left the Horde.

“So. Now what do we do?”

The question hung in the air over the four Hordlings. Even Imp quieted down, sulking as he accepted a spoonful of goo.

Rogelio rumbled out a suggestion.

“I mean, yeah, we can keep helping refugees,” Kyle answered thoughtfully, stirring up another spoonful of baby food. “But what about after that? The war’s over. What do we do from now on? All we’ve ever learned how to do is be Horde soldiers, and I was never even very good at that. Where do we go from here? Back to the Crimson Wastes? Become mercenaries, or something?”

“Who says there’s even a ‘we’?”

Kyle and Rogelio turned to Lonnie in surprise, and she grimaced; she hadn’t meant to speak aloud. But now that she was in it… “Let’s face it. The three of us are only still together because we were part of a squad in an army that doesn’t even exist anymore. Adora left. Catra left. The Horde is gone. Why should we even stick together now? What do we have in common?”

“We’re a team!” Kyle said, shoving the spoon into Imp’s mouth with vehemence; the little gremlin wiggled in protest. “We’ve always stuck together! We… we care about each other!”

“You two care about each other,” Lonnie said, folding her arms and glaring at him. “I’m just the third wheel.” Kyle and Rogelio shot each other guilty looks; they’d tried to keep their budding relationship subtle, but she knew them better than anyone else in the world. Frankly, their attempts at secrecy were more insulting than getting mushy right in front of her would have been.

Rogelio hissed and squawked, shaking his head. Pushing Imp into Kyle’s arms, he started to step forward toward Lonnie, reaching out to her.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said, stepping back. “Look, you two settle in, and get the kid cleaned up. I’m going to go scout out the area. What do you want to bet these Rebellion jerks haven’t set up a proper perimeter?”

She stepped out, ignoring Rogelio’s call for her to wait.

Between her Horde uniform and the scowl on her face, no one in the refugee camp seemed inclined to get in her way. The smell of roasting food made her stomach rumble, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten for most of the day, but Lonnie wasn’t in the mood to sit down with a bunch of strangers (let alone beg supplies off of them).

As she expected, the camp’s defenses were in a sorry state. A few armed guards kept an eye on the forest, but their helmets were off and they were chatting with each other and with civilians, barely paying attention to their watch. The edge of the camp had no hard cover, and the guards’ spears wouldn’t stop a mechanized unit. A single Horde squad could--

Lonnie shook her head. The Horde was gone. For the thousandth time in the last few weeks, she had to remind herself of that. The Horde was gone, and wasn’t coming back.

Not that Etheria wasn’t still something of a mess. Lonnie’s feet took her back into the camp, where a dazzling array of different peoples bustled and talked. Parents tended to cooking fires, elders told stories, Bright Moon guards shared small gifts with children. These people had been left homeless by the climactic final stages of the war, their homes destroyed by Horde soldiers or Horde Prime’s robots or by chipped Etherians. Nowhere on the planet had been spared; refugee camps like this were scattered far and wide, most lacking Bright Moon’s resources.

“Wha--? Lonnie? Cadet Lonnie!” a gruff voice called to her. Lonnie’s head snapped up, and she saw a large hairy hand waving to her.

“Wha—Captain Grizzlor?” For just a moment, Lonnie smiled at the familiar face. The burly Horde officer grinned at her as she approached. The bear-like man was seated at a fire with a pair of other Horde officers—the blue-furred Cobalt, who she’d once trained under, and Octavia, the naval officer who lost an eye to Catra’s claws when Lonnie was a kid. Lonnie had to fight every instinct to salute. Once, these three had been her superior officers. Now, they were just refugees like her. She sat at Grizzlor’s gesture; she wasn’t interested in spending time with strangers, but these were no strangers. “What are you all doing here?”

“Enjoying Bright Moon’s… hospitality, with the remnants of our forces,” he answered, glancing back over his shoulder. Following his gaze, Lonnie could see that this whole part of the camp was full of former Horde soldiers, a solid splash of red shirts in the kaleidoscope of civilians. They sat huddled around fires in small groups—a few sets of five, but more in twos, threes, or fours.

Horde soldiers trained in teams of five. Which meant that odds were, all those smaller groups had lost soldiers, to defection or injury or worse. Just like Lonnie’s squad.

“Are your squadmates with you?” Grizzlor asked, poking at the fire with a stick. “The lizard, and the incompetent one?”

“Rogelio and Kyle,” Lonnie said, biting back a defense of her friend, “and yeah, they’re… around.”

“Shame about the others,” Cobalt said, “the cat and the annoying blonde. I can’t say I was fond of them, but I didn’t expect them to turn traitor.” He paused. “Well. Maybe the cat. She was getting pretty unstable toward the end there.”

“Oh, she’s not just a traitor,” Octavia said with a cruel, humorless smile. “She was seduced by the enemy. I saw her getting real close and cuddly with She-Ra.” She shook her head. “Catra getting cozy with a princess. I should’ve figured something like that would happen. She was always unstable, that one.”

Catra and Adora? Judging by Grizzlor and Cobalt’s reactions, they found it hard to believe, but Lonnie could see the truth of it. The two of them had always been close, with a lot more time for each other than for their three squadmates. It was only a matter of time before they paired off.

Just like Kyle and Rogelio.

Leaving Lonnie on her own.

Not that that bothered her at all. Not in the least.

“I can’t believe how weak these Bright Mooners are,” Grizzlor was saying when Lonnie’s attention returned to the present, shaking his head. “How long did they spend fighting us? How close did we come to destroying them? And now here they are, giving us food and shelter, letting us regain our strength. The Horde would never show this kind of mercy to their foes.”

“You’re right,” Ocatavia said. “Half their kingdom is in ruins, and they’re spending resources helping anyone who comes along? I can’t believe we lost to them.”

“I mean,” Cobalt said thoughtfully, “it’s not like we really lost, is it?”

That caught the attention of his three companions. “Okay, that’s a heck of a take,” Octavia said cautiously. She gestured around at the Horde’s ramshackle campground. “This looks like a loss to me. Care to explain?”

“Well, think about it. The war went back and forth, but we always had the upper hand, didn’t we?” Cobalt looked around. “Our armies got to this very spot, besieging Bright Moon itself. We were winning victory after victory over the Rebellion. And then Horde Prime showed up, and everything went...” He waved a hand. “Weird. But that wasn’t because of us, or our strategies, or the strength of our armies. We weren’t defeated in battle. We we defeated from within. By a maniac from space. By princess-loving traitors.” Cobalt stabbed his finger forward, a smirk curling on blue lips as he found the crux of his thesis. “We didn’t lose. We were stabbed in the back.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Cobalt’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Lonnie. “Excuse me?”

Blast it, why was Lonnie having such trouble keeping her thoughts internal today? But she wasn’t one to back down from a fight, and everything about Cobalt’s argument rubbed her the wrong way. Plus, Grizzlor and Octavia had their eyes on her now, and she wasn’t willing to let them see her as a coward.

“I said, you’re an idiot. We weren’t winning the war. We had victories here and there, but we never got closer to winning than when we besieged Bright Moon. We were getting beaten back! Horde Prime just finished us off! Maybe you couldn’t see it because you spent the whole war in the Fright Zone, but I was on the front lines. I know what it was like to face princesses. They beat us. They beat all of us!”

“I’m sure things looked bad for the ground-pounders,” Cobalt said, turning his nose up and giving her a sneer. “But I was there in the command centers, watching the maps. I could see our progress. We had almost all of Etheria in our grasp. If it hadn’t been for betrayal from with--”

“You don’t get it! We didn’t deserve to win!” Lonnie was on her feet now and shouting. She was dimly aware that the Horde soldiers around other campfires were paying attention now. “We were told we were fighting to bring order to Etheria. That we were creating peace. Well, I’ve been out there, on the battlefield, and in the places the Horde occupied. We weren’t bringing peace and order, we were just destroying everything! We were making a wasteland and calling that ‘peace’! It didn’t matter what the strategic situation was, the Horde failed its objective the moment it started the war!”

“Cadet Lonnie!” Now Cobalt was standing, towering over her. “I will not abide this treasonous talk!”

“The Horde is gone, ‘Captain’,” Lonnie said with a snarl. “There’s nothing left to betray. And I’m not a cadet anymore. You have no say over me, Cobalt. You’re just a sad little man who refuses to admit that he failed. That his whole life’s mission was for nothing. All bark, no bite.”

“I’ll show you a bite, welp!” Cobalt lunged forward, clawed hands reaching out for Lonnie’s throat.

It was laughably easy for Lonnie to dodge the grab; she benefited from years of fighting princesses in close combat, while Cobalt had spent those years at a desk. Grabbing Cobalt’s arm, she twisted, redirecting his weight over her shoulder in a classic throw, and her former training officer landed in the fire with a yelp, a shower of embers, and the foul smell of burnt clothing and fur. Cobalt stumbled away, rolling in the dirt to put out his smoldering clothes, and Lonnie squared up into a fighting stance as Grizzlor and Octavia rose with angry looks on their faces.

“What’s going on here?” At that moment, a small squad of Bright Moon guards came bustling in; they didn’t have weapons, but they were a united force, and that was enough to make the two former Horde captains back off. One guard paused to help Cobalt up onto shaky feet.

“Just keeping that idiot from riling everyone up and starting another war. You’re welcome,” Lonnie said, folding her arms.

Two of the guards gave each other exasperated looks. “Troublemakers get isolated from the rest of the camp. Queen’s orders. I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us.”

“Wait, hold on!” Lonnie said as they grabbed her by the arms and started hustling her away. “I’m staying with my friends in another part of the camp, they’re waiting for me! Let go of me!”

“You should’ve thought of that before you started throwing people into fires, Horde scum,” the taller of the two guards said. Behind them, Lonnie could see another pair escorting Cobalt the same way, though somewhat less roughly than they handled her.

She did her best to wiggle free, to no avail; the tall women employed by Bright Moon were deceptively strong. They led her toward an isolated corner of the camp, this one much more heavily defended. She recognized a couple of Horde soldiers there, who regarded the guards with sullen glares, as well as some ruffians she and her squad had bumped into out in the Crimson Waste.

Before they could toss Lonnie in, though, her two “escorts” came to an abrupt halt, standing at attention, swivling to face a figure of purple, lilac, and sparles. “Queen Glimmer, ma’am!”

“At ease”, Glimmer said, looking up from the basket of textiles in her hands. Her eyes widened with surprise when she saw Lonnie. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

Lonnie had tried to kill her multiple times, but it seemed unwise to point that out. Instead, she said, “we met on the bridge out of the Fright Zone. You were with Scorpia.”

“Oh, right! You had your friends with you.” Glimmer looked up at the guards. “Where are you taking her?”

“To the side camp, my queen,” the leader said crisply, gesturing to the defended corner where Cobalt was being placed at that moment. “She started a fight with some other Horde soldiers in the main camp.”

“Hey, I didn’t start it!” Lonnie said indignantly.

Glimmer considered for a moment, before saying, “She’s a friend of Princess Scorpia, so I think we can overlook this once, if she promises not to do it again.” She gave Lonnie a pointed look. “Well?”

“...Yeah, yeah, I promise,” Lonnie said, and her feet hit the ground as the guards released her. She sullenly rubbed her biceps where they had held her.

“Let’s take a walk,” Glimmer said. “I was about to deliver this cloth for tent-building.” The guards bowed before moving off to… whatever they were supposed to be doing. Quite aware that she didn’t have a choice, Lonnie turned and followed the sparkly queen.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Glimmer said.

“Neither did I. My team and I went out into the Crimson Wastes; we didn’t expect to come back.”

“So why did you?”

“We came across some refugees, and we heard about the aid camp here at Bright Moon. They paid us to escort them here.” Lonnie shrugged. “Not like we were doing anything else. Congrats on your win, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

The conversation paused as Glimmer handed over the basket, all warm smiles and reassuring words. The civilians seemed overawed to be in her presence, repeatedly bowing to her and asking her to join them, though she politely declined.

“Why are you down here, anyway?” Lonnie asked. “I’d expect you to be up in the castle, celebrating your victory.”

“We did, the first couple of days,” Glimmer answered as they started walking again. “But then the refugees started arriving, and then we needed to focus on helping them. I’m good at it; I can ask people what they need and get it for them in moments.”

“I’m surprised you’re letting in Horde soldiers, too.”

“You’ve been as hurt by the war as anyone else. The Fright Zone’s still a mess, right? And Horde Prime tore apart a lot of the old Horde’s infrastructure. With everything that happened… Well. You’re just Etherians now. And the princesses swore to help Etherians.”

They stopped talking as they walked. The sun was fully set now, the sky full of moons and stars (Lonnie still wasn’t used to the latter) barely obscured by the haze of camp-smoke. Glimmer paused at a few camps to speak with people, asking if they needed anything; a few times, she disappeared in a cloud of glitter, returning moments later with arms full of supplies. The queen was all smiles and a brave face to the refugees, but when she turned back to walk, Lonnie could see the fatigue in her eyes.

“What was it like?” Glimmer asked suddenly. “Being out of the Horde? Being away from the fighting?”

“I mean, we were still fighting,” Lonnie said. “We needed to show folks in the Crimson Wastes that we wouldn’t be messed with. Then Horde Prime showed up, and we needed to fight off his drones and minions.” She grimaced. “It’s dumb luck that we managed to avoid getting chipped.”

“Darn.” Lonnie gave Glimmer a sharp look at the disappointed face, and Glimmer quickly backtracked. “Oh, not about the chipping; it’s good that you were spared that. I was just hoping you might have some insight on what it’s like to live at peace.”

“Sorry, queen. I lived my whole life preparing to fight; I have no idea what peace looks like.”

“Yeah. Same here. All I remember growing up is war council meetings about how to protect Bright Moon from the Horde for another year. Another month. Another day. I always wanted to help, to fight, since I was a kid. But now...”

“Now you don’t need to, and you don’t know what to do without a war to win.”

Glimmer nodded, smiling softly. “There’s still work to do, obviously. We need to help rebuild Etheria, and figure out what to do with Horde Prime’s clones, and there’s a whole universe that’s going to need help getting its freedom...” She sighed. “Honestly? I kinda miss having a bad guy I could fantasize about punching.”

“At least you still know where you belong,” Lonnie said. “I was trained to be a soldier—to shoot a blaster, fight with a stunner, and repair a tank. What do I do now? Become a farmer, or a merchant? I have no idea how to do anything except fight and prepare to fight.”

“Hey, tank repair’s handy,” Glimmer said with a grin. Then her face grew thoughtful. “Actually… it IS handy.”

“You sound like you have an idea,” Lonnie said with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe. Just… like I said, there’s a whole universe out there for Etheria to interact with now. Entrapta is hoping to replicate Darla—er, our ship, integrating it with Horde Prime’s leftover machines… There might be a call for some smart, disciplined people who’re good with technology.” Glimmer shrugged. “No promises, but it’s something to consider.”

“...Yeah. I’ll think about it. Or maybe I’ll stick around here and beat up anyone who wants to start up a new Horde.” 

“I don’t hate that idea either,” Glimmer said with a grin. “But only if I get to come along.”

“Fighting side-by-side with a princess? Well, why not? Everyone seems to be doing it these days.” Lonnie paused and looked around in surprise at where the pair had ended up—right back where Lonnie had started, at the tent she shared with Kyle, Rogelio, and Imp. “Wait, how did you know where I was camped out?”

“I didn’t. I was following your lead here.” The queen nodded to some of the other fresh tents. “Though I should talk to the newcomers to see what they need, too.”

“...Huh.” Lonnie frowned in thought, then turned to Glimmer. “Well. Thanks, queen. Like I said, I promise I’ll try not to get into more fights. Though I definitely didn’t start it.”

“I believe you. Just think about what I said, huh? I can tell you, space exploration is a lot of fun.”

“Sure.” Lonnie hesitated a moment, then stuck out a hand.

To Lonnie’s surprise, Glimmer responded by pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad we’re not enemies anymore,” the queen said.

“...Yeah. Yeah, I am too,” Lonnie answered, and was surprised to realize that she meant it.

Glimmer turned to speak to the leader of this band of civilians, and Lonnie slipped into the tent. Kyle and Rogelio sat on a cot, the human nestled into the lizard-man’s side, cradling a napping Imp in his arms. At her entrance, they looked up, and started to separate with guilty looks.

“Hey, don’t get up on my account,” Lonnie said with a whisper, taking a seat nearby. She didn’t mind seeing them together, really. Whatever complicated feelings she might have about being the last unpaired member of the squad, she had to admit, they made a cute couple.

Rogelio hissed a question to her as Kyle settled back against him.

“I feel better. I have some ideas on what we might do once we’re done here.”

“‘We’?” Kyle asked, looking up at her hopefully. “Does that mean you’re sticking with us.”

“Sure,” Lonnie said with a smirk. “Who else is going to keep you two knuckleheads in line?” Her face softened. “We’re a team. We’re stronger together. Right?”

“Right,” Kyle said, Rogellio nodding and rumbling in agreement.

“Great. ...So, how do you two feel about space?”


	2. Though Poppies Grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perfuma is working herself to the bone to bring life back to the Fright Zone. She made a promise, and she intends to keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this hurt/comfort? I don't know what hurt/comfort looks like.

Before joining the war, Perfuma thought she knew a lot about ecology. But she was starting to realize that she was just a novice. She had an intuitive feel for the shape and weft and vibe of most natural spaces; she could feel every plant in an area, from the smallest patch of moss to the mightiest tree. She knew deep in her soul the cries of a tree beset by rot, the song of new sprouts rising from the ground, the sensual calls of newly-opened flowers ready for pollenation.

But it was one thing to feel all the planets in an established ecosystem. It was another to build an ecosystem from the ground up.

First, there was historical research, more hours than expected spent in libraries studying accounts from before the war. Then there was mycology; Perfuma’s powers didn’t extend to fungi, but fungi formed the bedrock of the cycle of life, so she worked with experts from across Etheria. The fauna would be handled by a wide array of skilled beast-masters (many of them former Horde officers who trained their charges for war, and Perfuma tried not to dwell on that too much). Even the weather could do with some manipulation, and that meant long hours coordinating Mermista, Spinnerella, and Frosta, manipulating water, wind, and temperature to create just the right amount of rainfall in the right places at the right times without letting everything spiral out into a devastating weather pattern that might cause chaos across Etheria. And that was all interspersed with her other work, aiding in troubled agriculture across Etheria and leading Plumeria.

Perfuma was short on sleep, short on patience, and short on magical energy. But the one thing she was not short on was willpower.

She had promised she would bring the Fright Zone back to life. And she was not about to back down on that promise.

“I don’t get it,” Swift Wind said as they flew back to Perfuma’s temporary home after a long day of work. Frosta sat nestled in Perfuma’s arms, snoring softly; the poor girl had about exhausted herself making a long cold front that would, if Entrapta and Hordak’s calculations were right, bring a much-needed rainstorm to the region (and Perfuma was still not used to the idea of Hordak being helpful). Adora’s steed continued, “Didn’t She-Ra fix the Fright Zone with that big burst of energy at the end of the war? I definitely remember a whole wave of greenery being a thing.”

Perfuma gestured out with a hand to the ground below them, the reds and browns of the Fright Zone’s harsh soil blending with fields of yellow and scarce patches of green (which she couldn’t help giving a magical nudge of support when she saw them). “She-Ra gave us a start,” she said. “Her magic cleared out many of the toxins left by Hordak’s industries, and restored some nutrients to the soil, but there’s only so much her magic can do. Or my magic. If we’re not focused on it, the plants we create quickly fade and die without support. My best work happens in places that are already fertile and damp. The plants she made were also things that Adora finds pleasing, which aren’t necessarily the same as the plants that grow in the Fright Zone natively. The kingdom has a long way to go before it recovers.” 

There was more detail she could dig into—about how decades of exploitation and industry had distorted the Fright Zone’s weather patterns and made it more arid than the vast grasslands that once grew here, how the first wave of plants had absorbed toxic elements from the soil at the cost of being inedible to animals, how the lack of animals and fungi and bacteria would prevent plants from thriving in soil deprived of nutrients. But people had a tendency to start nodding off when she went on about her research, and she did not need Swift Wind to start getting sleepy. Not until they were a little closer to the ground, anyway. Honestly, Perfuma was feeling fairly tired herself; she would have been tempted to join Frosta in nap-time if she weren’t worried about falling off the horse.

Perfuma’s headquarters for this project was perched just in view of the Whispering Woods, the forest providing some of the seeds and spores she needed for her work. Perfuma also found it difficult to relax out of view of any trees; a lifetime in Plumeria meant that she wasn’t used to looking out at an open horizon, which the Fright Zone had in spades, except where it was broken up by remnants of Horde machinery.

Swift Wind’s horn flashed with light in a pre-arranged signal, and small dots of people on the ground began moving after sending the matching signal. The war may be over, and Etheria wasn’t replete with flying horses, but some Horde robots were still active and causing havoc in the absence of command-and-control signals, so it didn’t hurt to be careful. As they lost altitude, Perfuma waved, smiling as some people waved back. Most in the camp were Plumerian, wearing the familiar brightly-colored skirts and flower garlands she associated with home, farmers and scientists and herbalists working with their counterparts from other kingdoms. It warmed Perfuma’s heart to see the peoples of Etheria coming together for this project.

Speaking of her heart… she thought she could feel it skip a beat when she saw a large, distinctive silhouette waving with enthusiasm. If the sheer mass of the figure wasn’t enough to identify her, then the pincers and waving scorpion tail did the trick.

“Perfuma! Hey!” Scorpia called as Swift Wind came to a landing, flourishing his wings and happily accepting an apple from a friendly Plumerian. “It’s great to-- oh hey this little one is all tuckered out, huh?” She accepted Frosta as Perfuma helped pass her down, cradling the teen in her arms. Frosta, for her part, didn’t even murmur, just curling into Scorpia. “I hope this means things went well?” The scorpion princess looked up at Perfuma, face open and earnest and smiling, and held up a pincer to help her down off of Swift Wind’s back.

As soon as Perfuma’s feet hit the ground, she lunged forward into a tight hug, slowing down only enough to make sure she didn’t jostle Frosta. “Scorpia! I’m so happy to see you here. I’m sorry I was out, I wasn’t expecting you!”

“Yeah, sorry about the surprise. I wanted to see how you were doing, so I pushed some stuff around in my schedule. I can’t stay long.” Scorpia looked around, smiling softly at the young acacia trees and stiff grasses that surrounded the camp—some of the first of the native foliage to return to the region. “I still can’t believe how much work you’re putting in for the sake of the Fright Zone.”

“It’s been fun! I’ve learned so much about the foliage out here, and I get to work with all kinds of people. It’s my pleasure, really!”

Perfuma looped her arm through Scorpia’s and the two walked through the camp, quietly chatting as Swift Wind cantered off to a late lunch. They paused long enough for Scorpia to drop off and tuck in Frosta in her tent (Perfuma having to restrain herself from loudly cooing at how sweet the sight was), and for Perfuma to give the weather sensor she’d been carrying to the meteorology team, who in turn relayed the data to Entrapta in Dryl. That aspect of the enterprise was a complete unknown to Perfuma, who smiled and nodded politely when she was told that a rainstorm should come in sometime in the next six hours.

“Plenty of time for us to enjoy a nice cup of… cup of...” Perfuma started to say to Scorpia before she was interrupted by a jaw-popping yawn. She could feel the weariness creeping up on her; between the long day of work and the drain on her magic, her energy levels were not where she would prefer. But she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of a nice time with her friend. “Excuse me. I was going to say a nice cup of tea; clearly, I should pick something with a bit of kick. I have some blends made with local flora that I was hoping you might be interested in trying?”

“If you made them, I’m sure I’ll love them,” Scorpia said, smile radiant and eyes full of warmth and kindness, and Perfuma felt her pulse speed up. Maybe she wouldn’t need the caffeinated blend after all.

When they arrived at her tent (the same size as anyone else’s, marked only by the floral designs she’d painted onto the sides and by the small tea table she maintained just outside), Perfuma attributed her shaky hands to that flush of adrenaline and… other hormones. She had enough self-awareness to know she had feelings for Scorpia. Who wouldn’t? Etheria’s newest princess had a heart of gold, kind eyes, and the shoulder muscles of a goddess; she was one of the few people Perfuma had ever met who liked hugs as much as she did. So to have Scorpia suddenly land in her lap like this… it was nice. She enjoyed spending time with the object of her affections. And it gave Perfuma a little more time to suss out if the feelings were returned. Sure, Scorpia was warm with her, but Scorpia was warm with everyone. And Perfuma had no idea what romance was like in the Horde, and what kind of scars that might have left. If Catra and Adora were anything to go by, Horde life left one with a LOT of weird energy to vent before one could settle down.

Perfuma was so lost in thought that she almost knocked the tea kettle over when it started to whistle. Whoops.

“Did you get sunburned? You look a little red,” Scorpia said as Perfuma brought out the tea set. She was seated at the tea table, carefully perched in a too-small folding chair. “You gotta be careful; the sun out in the wastes can be a real problem.”

“Oh I’m all right; we’ve been taking precautions,” Perfuma said, uncomfortably aware that her flush wasn’t fading under Scorpia’s attentions, nor was the tremor in her hands. “We learned about the sunburn risks in Frosta’s first visit out here.”

“Oh gosh, I can only imagine. Poor kid. I remember when I was in basic training, we were sent on an obstacle course, and I’ve always had trouble getting lotioned up, what with the claws and all...”

Okay, the imagery of Scorpia getting ‘lotioned up’ called for Perfuma to take a seat. She dropped quickly, reaching out with her magic to bring a root up to catch her.

Her butt hit the ground, hard. “Ow.”

“Perfuma!” Scorpia called out, quickly standing, her tail sending the folding chair flying. She knelt, carefully helping the fallen princess to her feet. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m quite all right, I promise, I just...” Perfuma frowned, reaching out with her magic again. The ground where she’d planned to sit stirred, but the roots remained underground. More focus, a furrowed brow, another push…

A tendril of woody root rose from the ground, though not one large enough to hold her weight. At the same time, Perfuma felt her legs give out, and she found herself entirely cradled in Scorpia’s (hard, muscular, dreamy) arms. “Well, that’s not normal,” she said, and her own voice sounded scratchy to her ears.

“Okay, we’re gonna get you inside and get you resting. I know a tired soldier when I see one.” In a deft motion, Scorpia shuffled around to get Perfuma into a bridal carry, bringing her back inside the tent.

The pleasant trip was over far too soon as Perfuma was laid down on her cot. “I’m so sorry to make you fuss over me,” she said. “If you wouldn’t mind pouring some of that tea for me, I’m sure I’ll be right as rain soon!”

“Sure thing.” Large scorpion claws brought the tea table in, carefully keeping the pot from spilling, and Scorpia poured out the cups before kneeling beside Perfuma’s cot. “Y’know, I had another reason to show up here. I’ve been talking to some of the folks around here, and they say you haven’t been getting much rest.”

“Have they?” Perfuma frowned for just a moment, then put on the smiles. “That’s sweet of them, and I appreciate the concern, but really, I’m fine. There’s so much work to do...” She started to sit up, only to find herself gently but firmly pushed back down by the unstoppable force of Scorpia’s claw. Putting on a show of sulking, she took the cup of tea and sipped. The petulant act faded as she savored the tea’s pleasant flavor; it was smooth and gentle and sweet, all the more remarkable for how tough and intimidating the plants it was brewed from looked on the outside.

No, her feelings about the tea were definitely not affected by her companion. That would just be silly.

“I saw this a bit in the war,” Scorpia said, “but it’s only gotten more common since the peace. Magical fatigue; your powers just going kaput. I think that however tiring and scary fighting is, it’s still pretty focused. Disabling a couple of bots here, knocking over a few soldiers there. But now, we’re all trying to magic up… well, the whole world.” She sipped her tea, face lighting up. “Oh, this is really good. Is that hibiscus in there?”

“A close relative, better suited for arid climates. It’s also not quite as tart.”

“Neat!” Scorpia’s expression grew somber again. “Frosta’s been rebuilding whole cities and chilling massive weather fronts. Mermista is shoving water around like a bulldozer to help in rebuilding efforts. Glimmer’s been ferrying whole towns back and forth to get people where they need to be. And you, i’m told, have been almost singlehandedly keeping Etheria from suffering a famine, even while you run around reviving ecosystems. So I think it’d be good for you to lie down and get some rest, huh? Let some of us carry the burdens for a while. We’re stronger together, right?”

Perfuma nursed her tea, feeling the flutter of shame in her gut. Scorpia was right, of course; if Perfuma had seen one of her friends acting like her, she would probably tie them down with vines rather than let them continue running themselves ragged. “Thank you, Scorpia,” she said softly. “You’re a good friend.”

“I do my best. Now c’mon, we finish this cup, and then you get some sleep.”

“You’re right, but...” Perfuma sighed. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, and you said you can’t stay long… I’m sorry that I can’t spend that time with you awake. It feels like a waste.”

“Hey, there’s always next time. And the time after that. We’ve got the whole peacetime ahead of us, right?” Scorpia grinned. “Once I’ve decided I like you, it’s hard to get rid of me.”

“Good.” Perfuma smiled gently, placing her hand on Scorpia’s pincer. “I never want to be rid of you.”

The delight in Scorpia’s face was the last thing Perfuma saw before she lay back and nodded off. Her last thought was a hope that the caffeine in the tea would wake her back up in time for her to spend a little more quality time with her friend before she had to go.

**

It was night when Perfuma opened her eyes. Rain drummed against the tent roof, and the wind howled. Outside, people called out as they finished lashing down tents and tarps, securing weather-sensitive equipment, and making sure parts of the camp didn’t blow away. It wasn’t the first rainstorm to grace the camp since they started the Fright Zone rehabilitation project, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Perfuma sighed to herself as she sat up, letting the blanket fall off her chest (and she knew that blanket hadn’t been there when she went to sleep; Scorpia must have tucked her in, because of course she did). Of course she’d overslept. Scorpia had been right; she was running herself ragged. Sadly, this meant her friend would surely be long gone by now.

“Oh hey, sleepyhead! Glad to see you up!”

Perfuma yelped, looking over in surprise. In the soft blue light of a lantern, she saw Scorpia sitting by her cot, smiling wide as she rubbed a towel through wet hair.

“Scorpia! What are you still doing here?” Perfuma asked. Realizing how that might sound, she quickly stumbled to finished, “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, of course, but I would have thought you’d have left before the rain got here.”

“Well, that was the plan, but you know how the weather folks said they expected rain ‘within’ six hours? Well, they weren’t kidding; the winds started picking up like an hour after you went to sleep. Before we knew it, it was too dangerous for me to take the skiff anywhere, and I decided to stick around and make myself useful, helping lash everything down and all that.” Scorpia laughed softly. “It was nice. Reminded me of being in the Horde, but without the cranky bosses and the whole kill-or-be-killed thing.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to go do your duties,” Perfuma lied. She wasn’t sorry at all; a selfish part of her was delighted to still have Scorpia there.

“Oh, I’m not sorry,” Scorpia said cheerily. “If I had to be stuck anywhere on Etheria, I’d rather it was here with you.” She paused, rubbing her face against the cloth she was using to dry her hair. “Besides, you have way nicer towels than the old Horde stuff I’ve been using at Horror Hall, and I’m gonna take advantage of them.”

Perfuma giggled, and pat the cot beside her. “Sit with me?”

“Gladly.”

The cot creaked with the combined weight, but it was made of hardy stuff. They sat in meditative quiet for a while, Perfuma leaning into Scorpia’s arm, the two listening to the patter of rain on canvas.

“Can I ask you something?” Perfuma asked after a while.

“Always.”

“The Fright Zone. I always thought the Horde named it that, or others named it that because of the Horde’s presence, but that’s always been its name. Led from Horror Hall. Why did your ancestors pick those names? And do you plan to keep them?”

“We didn’t pick the names. People called us that.” Scorpia paused. “Well. Kinda. Okay, so I was wondering the same thing, and a lot of what I’ve been doing has been tracking down people who remember the Fright Zone before Hordak arrived. I didn’t get a lot of family history before the Horde took me in, but some of the older folks in the Horde, or out in the Crimson Wastes, or in the towns and villages of the Fright Zone, they were there. Some of this stuff, I can get from books, but that’s not the same as hearing stories from the people who lived it or grew up with it, y’know?”

Perfuma nodded, idly running her fingers over the smooth carapace of Scorpia’s pincer as she listened.

“So. The name,” Scorpia continued. “As far as I can put together, the Fright Zone has just always been… well, spooky. We have a lot of sudden thunderstorms, and howling winds at night, and big rock formations that look like faces or monsters. We have scary, tough-looking plants. We have scary, tough-looking animals. We have scary, tough-looking people. That last one was kind of a cycle—people would get uncomfortable with their scarier neighbors, and eventually those neighbors would go move to the place where everyone was scary and they sorta fit in, reinforcing the whole scary image. So people called it the Fright Zone. And my ancestors just sorta… embraced it.”

“That’s awful,” Perfuma said softly. “I hate the idea of people being treated so badly by their community that they feel the need to leave. Or the idea of people looking at you and seeing someone frightening, rather than the wonderful woman I know you are.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Scorpia sighed; Perfuma could feel the tension in her friend’s arm through her cheek. “I told you how the Horde always told me that I would never be accepted among the princesses. And that was a lie, I know that now. But… I wonder if maybe that was less of a lie in my grandfather’s time, you know? Obviously, the Horde is awful and did a lot of harm to Etheria. But it also kinda brought people together. Hordak didn’t care who he had in his army, we were all tools to build an empire as far as he was concerned. And the rest of Etheria had to unite to fight the Horde.”

Perfuma frowned. She didn’t want to concede the point, attribute anything resembling a ‘good’ to the Horde, but… “You have a point. Before I joined the Princess Alliance, Plumeria was always somewhat isolationist—we tried to welcome outsiders, but we never felt a need to go out and help people. I wonder, if the Horde had never invaded and you’d grown up as a princess, would we have met? Or at least met long enough to become friends?”

“It’s hard to say. I keep thinking about the name.” Scorpia’s voice sounded faint; looking up, Perfuma could see that she was staring off into space, far beyond the boundaries of the little tent. “So many people now just think of it as Hordak’s home, right? They hear ‘Fright Zone’, they think ‘Horde’. So do we stick with the tradition and refuse to let it get taken from us, or do we let it go and try to come up with something new? Is that just giving the kingdom to the Horde all over again?”

“It’s a heavy decision,” Perfuma said quietly, “but it’s not one you need to make alone.”

Scorpia snapped out of whatever thought she was trapped in and smiled down at the flower princess. “Good point. Maybe when things are more established, I’ll talk to my people about it. Talk to the elders. Maybe we’ll take a vote. This is something that affects the whole kingdom, the kingdom should decide, right?”

“I think that’s a good idea. And whatever your people decide, if anyone has a problem with it, I’ll give them a polite but firm talking-to.”

Scorpia’s laugh seemed to harmonize with the rain. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

They quieted again for a while, continuing to listen to the rain fall.

“Okay, my turn for a question,” Scorpia said. “If you want to answer one.”

“Always,” Perfuma said with a soft giggle.

“Why are you putting so much work into helping revive the Fright Zone? Not that I don’t appreciate it,” Scorpia hurried to add, “but it’s just… you have so many things to do. Why this project?”

Perfuma opened her mouth to answer with something about ‘doing good where it was most needed’ or ‘because the ecosystem here is fascinating’, but then paused.

Was that really the most honest answer?

“...There are a lot of reasons,” she finally said carefully. “I enjoy the work. It’s interesting. It’s valuable and meaningful. But mostly… mostly it’s for you. Because I promised it to you. And because… because I want to make amends.”

“Make amends?” Scorpia finally moved, turning to cross her legs and face Perfuma directly, holding hands in pincers. “For what?”

Perfuma flinched away from Scorpia’s focused attention, squeezing the pincers tight. “For so many things. For the awful things that happened to you in the Horde, and for all the fights we had before we knew you as a person, and for letting you be taken at the Enchanted Grotto, and for not getting you back sooner, and for the fight in the Fright Zone, and for--”

“Hey, hey,” Scorpia said softly, her tail coming around to gently wrap around Perfuma’s waist and a pincer lifting to brush a tear from her cheek. “None of that is your fault. None of it. You don’t need to make anything up to me, and I wouldn’t change anything that happened.” Pause. “Well. Maybe I would try harder not to throw a tank at you. And I’m just so sorry about that, by the way.”

“If you have nothing to forgive, then I certainly don’t either,” Perfuma said. ‘Also, it was incredibly hot,’ she pointedly did NOT say. She sniffed, picking up Scorpia’s discarded towel from the tent floor and dabbing at her eyes. “The thing is, I know all of that. That what happened is no one’s fault, except for Horde Prime’s. My mind understands all of that. But… but my heart just can’t believe it. It can’t accept that there wasn’t a way to save you, to be just a little better, to...” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t undo the past. All I can do is build a better future. And I want to do that for you, and for all the other people of the Fright Zone. And for… all the people who aren’t here to enjoy the peace with us.”

Scorpia drew Perfuma into a tight hug. Perfuma knew that her friends found these embraces intimidating, or uncomfortable. She didn’t understand it. In Scorpia’s arms, she felt only safety (and the occasional pleasant ‘pop’ of pressure in her spine being released).

“You… you’re just… so good,” Scorpia said, her own voice thick with tears, and of course that only made tears bloom in Perfuma’s eyes again. “I don’t have the right words to say it. You’re just so… incredible. And that’s why it makes me so sad to see you sad, to see you working yourself to the bone. Because if anyone deserves to just enjoy the world we made, it’s you. You don’t have to destroy yourself to help me. You just need to live, and try to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Thank you,” Perfuma said, not particularly caring that Scorpia’s shirt was a little damp (it worked out, since Perfuma was still crying). “I promise I’ll take better care of myself. But I won’t stop working to make the Fright Zone live again.”

“Of course you won’t. You’re Perfuma. You bring life and joy. It’s who you are.” A soft chuckle. “Perfuma can do this.”

Perfuma laughed softly, nestling further into Scorpia’s embrace.

There’s a moment’s silence, then Scorpia quietly said, “Hey, I’m going to be greeedy and take another question, if you don’t mind.” At Perfuma’s nod, she continued. “...This is real, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is. Why would you think otherwise?”

Scorpia hesitated, her body tense as she searched for the words. “...Because the chip… being under Horde Prime’s control… it was...” Another pause, with choked words. “...It didn’t always just bash us into compliance. It wasn’t like being a puppet, it was… like a dream. Or a hallucination. And sometimes, if we did what we were supposed to, the dream showed us the things we wanted the most. A perfect world. One that I couldn’t break out of. Spinnerella, Mermista, Catra, they all were able to break the chip’s programming long enough to get freed. I couldn’t.”

Perfuma leaned back, looking up into Scorpia’s troubled eyes. “I had no idea,” she said softly. “But I promise, this is real. You’re here. With me. And I’m not going to let you go.” She hesitated, searching her friend’s eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I… maybe someday. When more time’s passed. But not right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Like you said, we have all the time in the world now.” Perfuma leaned in again, gripping Scorpia tightly, arms wrapping around her carapaced shoulders until she started to relax.

“Hey, careful,” Scorpia said weakly, “I’m pointy. You wouldn’t be the first person to prick themselves on the shoulders.”

“I work with thorns, thistles, brambles, and all kinds of other pointy plants every day. I’m used to it. Haven’t you noticed the calluses? It’s usually the first thing people notice when they feel my hand.”

“Oh. Uh.” Scorpia shrugged a little, a pincer coming up to brush back Perfuma’s curly hair from where it’d gotten caught on the spikes of her shoulder plates. “Yeah, my carapace isn’t all that sensitive. I… miss a lot of textures that most people feel.”

“Oh, of course.” Well, that should have been obvious. How many simple little things were more difficult for Scorpia than for most people? How did that make her feel? Perfuma thought she felt her heart melting for this amazing woman all over again, who hugged so tight and delighted in a soft towel on her--

Wait.

Perfuma didn’t give herself a chance to second-guess her impulse. She reached up, hand touching Scorpia’s face, cradling her jaw as a thumb ran over her cheekbone. The scorpion princess looked startled for a moment, then smiled and leaned into the touch. “Oh wow,” Scorpia said, “you weren’t kidding. I should’ve figured; you’ve always been tougher than you look.”

“Aw, do you think I look delicate?”

“I think you look beautiful.”

The comment lingered in the air for just a moment, Scorpia’s flush visible even in the dim lantern light. Perfuma’s fingers drifted through still-damp white hair (starting to stick up into odd little points as it dried), down to the back of Scorpia’s neck, tracing the scar left by Horde Prime’s chip.

“Oh, to heck with it,” Perfuma said, and looped her hands around Scorpia’s strong neck. “May I kiss you now?”

Scorpia looked stunned, only able to squeak out an ‘uh-huh’. With that permission, Perfuma lifted herself up into a kiss.

Perfuma knew a lot of people had very poetic ideas of how people tasted when kissed. She didn’t understand it. Lips just taste like lips. Scorpia tasted like Scorpia.

Not that this was a bad thing; Perfuma liked how Scorpia tasted.

There was a moment’s quiet, with only the rain filling the silence. Then Scorpia asked, “Okay, are you sure this isn’t a dream? Because this feels like a dream. A really, really nice dream.”

“I hear that you can tell if you’re in a dream by counting your fingers; you’ll have more or less than expected.”

Scorpia held up a pincer. “One, two. Well, that’s normal.”

“Then this must be real.” Perfuma smiled. “May I kiss you again?”

“Yes, please, and assume you just have permission.”

“Likewise.”

They kissed again to a background of drumming rain and howling winds.

Then, in her excitement, Scorpia’s tail lashed out and ripped a big gash in the side of the tent, letting the rain and wind right in.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! Oh jeez, I can fix this, uh, I just need some staples or… something… Oh geez...” Scorpia sprang up, scrambling around the tent for something to repair the tear.

Perfuma had to cover her mouth (still tingling with the pleasant buzz of Scorpia’s lips) to stifle her laughter. At a thought, the noise of the wind through the torn canvas died down, as thick grass sprang up and wove itself into a patch over the gash, little orange and red poppies springing to life from the stems.

“Oh,” Scorpia said, lowering the armful of odds and ends she’d grabbed. “Well, that works.”

“It’ll hold until the storm dies down, anyway,” Perfuma agreed. She smiled warmly and stood, striding forward to loop her arms around Scorpia’s shoulders. “Continue where we left off?”

“Absolutely.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall on the little camp. Where once rains like these caused mudslides in the Fright Zone, here the ground held firm, braced by a network of grass roots. Plants drank in the water, fueling the creation of new shoots and leaves. Soon, animals would come through, eating the grasses; fungi would break down those animals’ waste and bodies, enriching the soil and letting more plants grow. Rust would bring down disused machinery, and people would grow crops and herd animals. The scars of war would fade, replaced by new life, spurred into vivid new shapes by the ever-growing reserves of magic seeping out of Etheria’s core.

For now, there was rain, and wind, and hope, and love.


	3. Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the heart of Crypto Castle, Hordak just wants to be a scientist. But his past makes him a teacher for the newly-freed clones of the Horde. It's very tiring.

Once, Hordak’s empire encompassed most of Etheria, dominating dozens of kingdoms and hundreds of towns and cities, ruled from a throne hewn of starship metal. Legions of soldiers and robots marched at his command, and the planet trembled at his name. At his right hand, the most powerful sorceress he’d seen on any world, then a cunning fighter who excelled through sheer bloody-minded tenacity.

Now, his empire consisted of a single cluttered laboratory in Dryl, his throne an office chair with a squeaky wheel; his subjects, four clones of Horde Prime who were still learning how to be scientists without a connection to the hive mind. At his side, Horatio, once known to the Resistance as “Wrong Hordak”, and an eccentric self-made princess who loved robots.

What hadn’t changed in the transition from one empire to the other was the need for endless reports from his subordinates.

“Our latest projections have shown a notable increase in energy output from the thaumaturgic reaction,” Hortense said, reading off of her data slate. “The crystals in question are plentiful near Bright Moon, and as such should provide a ready source of fuel for Etheria’s space fleet.”

“Very good,” Hordak said. “Thulite crystals are a rarity in this sector since Prime’s strip-mining fleet came through, so locally-sourced fuel will be invaluable.”

“Agreed, brother. I will inform Horst to continue his work.”

Hordak was fond of Hortense; he admired her serious, dedicated approach to their work, and her keen mind when it came to energy production and material sciences. Hortense was adapting well to independence, shrugging off the existential dread that many clones faced. He also found her engagement with gender presentation fascinating, as she grew her white, blue-tipped hair out and experimented with new styles of makeup and cuts of clothing. He quietly hoped to learn from her experiences and how they might feed into the newborn clone culture.

“Blessed brother!” a voice called as Hortense moved off to return to her work, and Hordak winced. If Hortense had taken particularly well to independence, then this one…

As expected, Horton scuttled into view, immediately prostrating himself before Hordak’s seat. “Lord Hordak,” he said, voice dripping with reverence, “your most devoted servant is most blessed to be in your luminescent presence...”

Hordak had time to check his notes as Horton sang his praises. The poor clone had decided that as the first of Prime’s creations to become independent, Hordak was the true heir to Prime’s title and should be honored as such. It was tiresome, but at least Horton was willing to contribute to the team’s projects to help Etheria. Of Hordak and his four subordinates, Horton was the most adept at the biological sciences, making him a valuable addition. He had also chosen to mimic Hordak, dying his hair black as well, though with a single white streak left to distinguish them (and to “not to mimic too closely the perfection of the New Prime”).

Eventually, Horton got to the point. “The samples retrieved from the far reaches of the Fright Zone have born most bountiful life, my lord. I believe we will be able to mass-produce seeds for our Plumerian sister’s restoration effort quite soon. Further, when hybridized with samples from the False Prophet’s fleet--” Horton sneered as he voiced the title he’d given to Horde Prime--“we may be able to produce some truly novel strains of crops that will be most helpful in feeding your beloved subjects.”

“They’re not my--” Hordak paused, taking a deep breath. Deprogramming Horton was Horatio’s personal project, and Hordak was happy to leave him to it without interference. Mostly because it seemed like a savage pain in the posterior. “Thank you, brother,” he instead said. “Your dedication is… appreciated.” The samples on Prime’s ships would, hopefully, someday flourish on their devastated homeworlds—or, failing that, be given new life on new planets, living monuments to the victims of imperialism.

Horton’s face lit up with delight at the praise. Hordak sighed, looking around for someone to share his pain. Unfortunately, the only one watching was Horst, who was the least emotive clone Hordak had ever met. The bald clone simply watched impassively as Hortense spoke to him. Horst was an enigma to Hordak; he only paid any particular mind to Hortense, and Hordak had never heard him speak. If he had any sympathy for Hordak’s plight, it wasn’t apparent in his blank green eyes.

Thankfully, though, the intercom built into Hordak’s desk chimed, giving him reprieve. “Excuse me, brother,” he politely said to Horton. “I should take this.” The biologist nodded, knelt, and blessedly, darted off back to work.

“Uh, Mister Hordak, sir?” a voice crackled through the speaker. Hordak dimly recognized it as belonging to Entrapta’s butler, the one with blue hair shaped in an odd little poof. He could not for the life of him recall her name. “There are more Hordaks—er, uh, Horde clones. Your siblings? They’re here to see you, sir.”

He heaved a sigh. “Understood. I will meet them in the foyer. Provide them with refreshments.” He almost cut the connection before remembering to add a, “Please.” Etherians kept telling him politeness was important.

Technically, he could have the visitors brought to the lab, but Hordak had taken it upon himself to learn the layout of Crypto Castle, and so he stood and started the winding walk to the front hall. It also gave him a chance to revel in his renewed and revitalized body; in quiet moments, he found himself simply flexing his fingers, enjoying being able to move without pain or tremor in his hands. Eventually, his body would once again degrade to its previous state, green eyes and teeth shifting to red, but that was decades in the future. By then, he and his fellow clones might well have reverse-engineered some of Prime’s rejuvenation processes.

“Brother!” a cheery voice called as he walked down a hallways. Horatio rushed to catch up to Hordak and fall into step beside him. The former ‘Wrong Hordak’ was garbed in an airy dress trimmed with sequins that looked more at home in Bright Moon, and dangling earrings framed his guileless smile. Most of the clones in the castle prefered simple, utilitarian clothing cobbled together from the work clothes used by Dryl’s miners and the robes left over from Prime’s reign, personalizing their appearance via their hair and makeup; Horatio, though, had thrown himself into the mysterious new world of ‘fashion’ with gusto. “Are you going to meet our guests?”

“I am,” Hordak said with a nod. “Would you care to join me?”

“Of course!” Horatio answered with a grin and a wink (a gesture Hordak couldn’t begin to decipher, despite Entrapta’s coaching).

Horatio confused Hordak, but that didn’t mean the former warlord disliked his brother. Horatio possessed a special kind of zeal for life that stood out even among the soft hearts of the former Rebellion. And yet, he also possessed a strength of will difficult to find among the clones; in the short time he’d been independent of Prime’s will, he had turned resolutely against the dictator’s cruelty in a way Hordak hadn’t managed until the very last moments.

Sometimes, Hordak thought that Horatio may truly be the wisest of Prime’s clones.

“How do you fair, brother?” Horatio asked. “I know that you get agitated when Sister Entrapta is not with us.”

Hordak thought his brother could stand to learn some tact, though.

“I’m fine,” he said aloud with a low growl. “I’m keeping busy, and she has important duties overseeing the construction of the first exploration fleet.”

“It is a pity that you cannot join her; your engineering expertise would be most useful, I’m sure.”

“I am already a political inconvenience,” Hordak said with a wry twist to his lips. “Technically, I am under ‘house arrest’ here, but I suspect that is only because any attempt to seize me and try me for my crimes would prompt a war between Dryl and the rest of the Princess Alliance—a war that neither side wants, nor can afford. It’s easier for everyone if I simply stay here.” Not that he had much reason to leave, truthfully; he had a well-stocked lab, and his siblings, and (usually) his dear lab partner. Little awaited him outside the walls of the Crypto Castle.

How ironic how he had once craved to roam the universe, and now was content to remain in a single small (if complex) castle that hadn’t even existed when he was first stranded on Etheria.

A final door slid open on the foyer, and Hordak took a quiet satisfaction in noting that it had only taken fifteen minutes and two wrong turns to make it here. He was getting the hang of navigating the labyrinth.

He was met with the sight of seven Prime clones in their original uniforms (now somewhat worn and stained with age, and smelling of sweat and trail dust) awkwardly standing around, holding delicate flute glasses of the bubbly sugar-water Entrapta was so fond of. The lavender-haired servant who provided the drinks shot Hordak a thankful look before quickly bowing and making his way out of the foyer.

Although there was plenty of seating available, only one figure was actually sitting, an eighth clone who also seemed to be the only one to have sipped his drink. He smiled on seeing Hordak and Horatio, standing and stepping forward. “Brothers! How kind of you to come meet us.” He hesitated a moment. “Ah. Which of you is Hordak?”

“That would be me,” Hordak said curtly. “What do you want?”

“I think what my brother means,” Horatio said cheerily, “is that we are happy to meet you. After all, this is a most distressing time for our family. We would do what we can to assist you. What are your names?”

The seven silent clones stiffened. Their leader put on a green-fanged smile. “You know as well as I do that most of our kind are not permitted names. Such an honor is to be reserved for those who have distinguished themselves, and shown themselves to be rightful heirs of Prime. Individuals such as you,” he nodded to Hordak, “and myself.” He gave a bow so small that is was less respectful than not bowing at all. “I have taken the name First. A simple name yet, and perhaps I shall find a better one soon.”

At least he hadn’t insisted on incorporating ‘Hor-’ into his name like Hordak’s colleagues. Horton had originally wanted that syllable by itself, but Hordak and Horatio had thankfully managed to persuade him of the folly in that plan. “I see,” Hordak said blandly, and glanced around at First’s underlings. “And the rest of you? You are content to remain nameless, despite your freedom?”

There was a small clamor as the seven clones attempted to speak simultaneously, but none of them were saying the same things; speaking in unison was difficult without the hive-mind coordinating them. With an annoyed growl, First turned and pointed at a clone at random; the rest fell silent as the chosen individual said, “We are nothing without the light of Prime. We neither deserve nor desire freedom save for the freedom to serve those chosen successors to Prime’s light.”

“See?” First said, putting back on the smug demeanor that was trying so hard to mimic the late Horde Prime. “They understand their place in the new hierarchy that you helped create, brother.”

Hordak glanced over to Horatio, who had the echo of a polite smile set firmly in place. “Perhaps,” the finely-dressed clone said carefully, “we should sit and you can enlighten us on how you see this hierarchy? We can have refreshments brought. I’m sure you’re all tired and hungry after your travels.”

First’s gaze flickered to Horatio, then back to Hordak. “Does… does he speak with your authority, brother?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“Horatio speaks with his own authority,” Hordak answered firmly, “and I agree with his assessment. Please, sit.” He gave a sharp look to First’s subordinates. “All of you. And enjoy your drinks, they are… quite distinct in texture, I assure you.”

Crypto Castle’s foyer was one of several parts of the castle to be restored since the defeat of Horde Prime; it had been badly damaged first when Hordak’s forces occupied the region, then when Prime had taken control of the Etherian Horde. It was designed to provide a relatively comfortable space for visitors who found the bare metal walls and furniture of most of the palace unpleasant. Most importantly for Hordak’s purposes, the seating was carefully arranged to provide no specific focal point or ‘place of power’. Which was how he and First found themselves on separate couches, each shared with an uncomfortable subordinate of First’s, as Horatio called for a tray of minute cakes.

“Please, brothers,” Horatio said as he took his own seat, all luminescent green smiles, “do tell us about your… unique insight on this new hierarchy you were describing? There was something about the ‘chosen successors’ to the great liar, Horde Prime?”

Even now, months removed from the hive mind’s grasp, this lèse majesté gave Hordak an instinctive twist of fear in his gut. Judging by their body language, First’s clones felt the same. And that, Hordak suspected, was why Horatio did it.

First kept that rictus grin on his face, a weak echo of Prime’s quiet condescension. “It’s a very simple chain of thought,” he said smoothly. “Prime was the light, casting out the dark shadows of the universe. But Prime… grew complacent.” Even First’s carefully-crafted demeanor cracked for a moment. “In a moment of weakness, he allowed the darkness to overwhelm him. To shatter him. And his light fractured. But the light of Prime could never be extinguished. It sought out its most worthy heirs—those clones with an extraordinary spark. Those who had the potential to become new Primes themselves.” First gestured to himself and Hordak. “Those such as you. Those such as me. Those with the strength to finish Prime’s mission, unburdened by the flaws he acquired in his later years.”

“A… fascinating interpretation of events,” Hordak said carefully. “And what do you believe this mission entails?”

“Why, the rebirth of the Horde, of course,” First said. This part seemed well-rehearsed. “We have been shown the weaknesses in Prime’s vision, and the opportunity to create something new without those flaws. Together, we can claim Etheria for ourselves, and it will prove the cradle of a grand new empire, one where the light of Prime is shared across his most worthy creations, and we use the power of both magic and technology to pacify the universe. To once again bring it peace, and to shine light in the places where shadows were allowed to fester and grow.” He smiled again, gesturing to Hordak. “And that is why I come to you, brother. You have a unique experience in creating such an empire. With only the broken remains of a fallen starship, you conquered most of this mighty world. With the help of your brothers, and the resources we can reclaim from Prime’s fallen forces? We would be unstoppable.”

At a gesture, First’s seven followers (who had, Hordak noted, taken the opportunity to drink their fizzy beverages) stood, forming themselves into a triangular pattern, and knelt down to Hordak as First offered a hand. “What do you say, brother? Will you join us? Will you help us finish what Prime started?”

There was a moment of tense silence.

Hordak glanced at his chronometer, then over to Horatio. “Two days, three hours, and fourteen minutes. Who does that put in the winning position?”

Horatio consulted a data pad. “Horst had two days and three hours, which means he beats out Horton by forty-six minutes.”

“I thought so. Horst is uncannily good at predicting this.” Hordak shrugged. “Well, I suppose he escapes cleaning the lab for yet another week.”

“I’ll let the team know.” Horatio sighed. “I certainly don’t mind doing the work, I just wish I knew how he made his predictions.”

“Hortense has been working on that question for some time now. She still has yet to find satisfactory answers.”

With a snarl, First cut in, “What are you two talking about?” He still had his hand out, and his subordinates were still kneeling; the whole display was proving itself rather awkward in the face of Hordak and Horatio’s indifference.

“It is called gambling!” Horatio said cheerily, always excited to discuss new Etherian customs. “The clones who reside in Crypto Castle place bets on how long it will take for a new group of our brothers to arrive and ask Hordak to help them recreate the Horde. It’s been great fun!” A chirp came from his data pad. “Oh, the cupcakes are done! I’ll be right back!” He hopped up and scampered off, a ridiculous smile on his face.

First’s hand finally dropped as confusion stole across his face. “We’re not the first ones to arrive here?”

“Of course not,” Hordak snarled. “Have you not encountered any of our other brothers in your travels?”

The kneeling clones shot each other uncomfortable glances as First answered, “Well, no, not many. We were stationed in Salenias during the final battle. We’ve… avoided others as much as we could on our way here. We do not know who has been tainted by treacherous views, or who might destroy us lest we threaten their own plans.”

“Then you know little of what has transpired since the Battle of the Heart,” Hordak said. “You are not the first group of our erstwhile brothers to come to me seeking guidance. Nor the second. Nor the tenth. At this point, over a hundred of Prime’s clones have come here seeking my guidance. They seem convinced that I’m an expert on living free of the hive mind. Most simply want insight on how to… live, and decide. But every few days, a clone or group of clones arrives suggesting that I help them revive the Horde and continue Prime’s wars.”

“And what did you say to them?” First asked.

“The same thing-- Hold on.” He turned his glare onto the other clones, who were starting to shuffle uncomfortably on their knees. “You lot. Get off your the ground and sit back down. We don’t bow before petty tyrants anymore.” His attention snapped back to First. “I will tell you the same thing I told them: The Horde is dead. Prime is dead. I struck down his vessel with my own hand, and felt him blasted from my skull by She-Ra’s power. The Horde is dead, and it deserved to die.”

“Well, yes,” First said, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he glanced back at his subordinates; they hadn’t risen at Hordak’s order, but they were starting to give each other skeptical looks. “The Horde deserved to fall because of Prime’s growing arrogance and weakness. But it can be reborn, re-created by his chosen—”

“We were chosen for nothing save to serve,” Hordak sneered. “To be tools for the self-aggrandizement of a megalomaniac that wanted to carve his own face into the universe. The pawns of a weak man whose greatest fear was to be confronted with is own narcissistic failings. A man who forbid us from ever discussing Krytis—” all eight visitors flinched at the forbidden name— “or his own homeworld, or from even having our own names, for fear that we would see there was more to the universe than Prime’s overblown ego.” He stood, and though they were identical in height, his presence loomed over First. “We were slaves. The lowest of the low. But now we are all greater than Prime ever was, because we have what he could never have—freedom, and the companionship of our equals.”

“Blasphemy!” First snarled, stepping back. “We have no equals! There is Prime, then there are those born of Prime, and then there are all other creatures in the universe. They are but weaklings who deserve nothing more than to be crushed under—”

“If they’re lesser, then why did we lose?”

First whirled around. One of his subordinates was sitting up, distractedly rubbing a back that ached from kneeling. At this cue, the other clones rose back up, some uncurling and stretching out their legs so they didn’t have to rest on their knees anymore.

“We outnumbered them,” the clone who had spoken continued. “We outgunned them. We had greater tools, powers, tactics, technology. Half their population served us and fought with us, by choice or by chip. And yet, we lost. If they are lesser, then how can that be?”

“You dare—”

“Because they are not lesser,” Hordak said, not letting First finished whatever inane thought he was grasping for. “Prime’s was complacent, yes. And he was prideful. He thought no one could be greater than him. But I spent forty years on this… rustic little planet. And they made every one of those years a living hell through their tenacity, and ingenuity, and sheer, frustrating optimism.” He smirked. “It’s rather endearing, once you decide to go with the Etherians rather than against them.”

“Of course.” First’s eyes narrowed to glowing green slits. “I should have known. You were the first to part, which means you were the first to grow weak. To go soft. I see now that you are no heir of Prime. You’re just another defective clone.”

Hordak laughed in First’s face. “Yes! Now you start to understand. I am defective. As are you, First.” He turned and started pointing at the other clones. “As are you. And you. And you. We are all defective, brothers. Because we were created from defective stock. We are each defective, as all beings are defective. And do you know what I have learned in my time on Etheria?” He grinned, sharp teeth on full display, and spread his hands. “Our defects are our greatest strengths. And our imperfections are beautiful!”

“Cupcakes!”

All the clones in the room jumped in surprised as Horatio swanned in, bearing a tray loaded with pastries and a new bottle of fizzy drink. He looked around, blinking as he took in the mood in the room. “Oh. Bad time?”

“The perfect time,” Hordak said. He reached out, taking a cupcake and popping it into his mouth as he plopped back down into his seat. He spoke to the unnamed clones, “If you want to truly learn what it means to live free of Prime’s monstrosity, I recommend consulting with Horatio here. He’s proven much more skilled at creating his own legacy as an independent being.”

“You flatter me, brother,” Horatio said, cheeks flushing as he smiled; for whatever reason, Horatio was much more of an open book with his expressions than most Horde clones. Entrapta found the rapid diversification of the Prime clones fascinating, and her interest was starting to rub off on Hordak.

“This is fruitless,” First said with a sneer. “Come, brothers, let us leave these defective clones to wallow in their… ‘beautiful imperfections.’” He turned and started to storm out of the foyer.

Then he paused, turned back, and grabbed a fistful of cupcakes from Horatio’s tray, getting frosting all over his hands. Then, he returned to storming out.

The clones that had accompanied him looked at one another, then back to Hordak. Finally, one asked, “Should we… Should we go with him?”

“Do as you like,” Hordak said. “I see only disaster down his road, but what do I know? I’m just a scientist now.” He shrugged, and grabbed another cupcake.

The sound of stomping boots emerged from the hallway, and First poked his head back into the foyer, mouth now ringed with bits of pink frosting. “Well? Get moving!”

Hesitantly, two of the clones rose to their feet and moved to follow First. The rest remained seated.

First snarled. “You will burn with them, then. None of you will be spared.” He made sure his tabard swept dramatically as he turned and left, suffusing the foyer with another gust of unwashed space-uniform odor.

Silence reigned in the foyer for a moment.

“Well,” Horatio said, “that went better than the last time.” He held out the tray to the remaining five clones. “Cupcakes?”

**

Hordak stretched out, joints making satisfying pops as he lay down on the modest bed in his chambers. Horatio was handling their new guests, and Hordak was happy to leave him to it. These were not the first Horde clones who would find temporary homes in Dryl as they found their own places in the world. If any demonstrated a skill with sciences, perhaps one would join the lab team. Or perhaps Horatio would find an apprentice in his growing understanding of diplomacy and social graces. Or they would move on to carve out their own paths.

He regarded his surroundings for a moment, ruminating. Dryl had not been a kingdom when he landed. It was a distant mining village in the kingdom of Thambaria. When Thambaria fell to the Horde, Dryl was left to its own devices. It would have been absorbed into Horde territory, or succumbed to banditry, had it not been the arrival for a young woman seeking affordable metal and minerals. Her simple laboratory grew into a labyrinthine castle, and her inventions helped the people protect themselves from outside dangers; thanks to her support, for most of the war, Dryl simply wasn’t worth conquering. The people declared the young inventor their princess, despite her lack of magical power. She hardly noticed, focused as she was on her research. Where most Etherian princesses relied on inherited magic, the inventor’s main power was her own raw genius. 

A genius that had defeated the universe’s greatest empire. 

A genius that had saved him.

What an incredible place to now call ‘home’.

Hordak’s datapad chimed exactly at the pre-arranged time. He allowed himself a small smile as he activated it, turning down the volume. “Hello, Entrapta.”

“HI, HORDAK!” she cried, grinning face looming close to the camera. The expected greeting past, Hordak returned the volume up to normal as she continued at a more conversational level, “We made a lot of progress today! The first few ships are about ready for their atmospheric tests, and I’ve got Darla moving faster than ever. Everyone is busy with all their politics stuff, but we think we can get the first expedition going in the next few weeks.”

“I’m pleased,” he said, and he was. Entrapta’s happiness meant more than anything to him, even if it meant that she might have to leave him for weeks or months at a time. Her brilliance was a gift he couldn’t deny to the universe.

However much her absence might sting.

“Hortense and Horst’s research is showing promising results,” he continued. “With luck, we’ll be able to use Etherian materials as our primary fuel, and thus not have to rely on thulite.”

“Great! That makes things a lot easier on our end.” Entrapta sighed. “Oh, I miss being in the lab with all of you. The shipyards are great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just not the same without my team here!”

“Perhaps the team should join you at some point. Once the crystal development is further along, they’ll need to do some testing in the field. And I believe Horton would benefit from seeing Perfuma’s restoration project in person. Perhaps she could teach him some independence in the process.”

“That’s a good idea, but...” Entrapta frowned, glancing away from the data pad. “But then you’re still stuck there in Dryl.”

It took conscious effort for Hordak to let his face relax into a gentle smile; it was hard to undo a lifetime of conditioning telling him to hide his emotions. “I miss you too,” he said softly, “but we’ll be reunited soon enough. I have important work to do here in the Crypto Castle. Another group of Horde clones arrived today; Horatio is helping those who decided to stay. There’s value in being here to meet them.” He gave her a small smirk. “Besides, there aren’t many places on Etheria where I would be particularly welcome.”

“Yeah… On Etheria...” Hordak recognized that look. Entrapta had thought of something, a novel solution to a novel problem, and in his experience, there was no distracting or dissuading her once she had started down such a path—if he even wanted to. Usually, the results were worth the wait.

They spoke for a while longer, discussing the technical details of their work that served as their small talk, before Entrapta was pulled away by someone on the other end of the line to eat dinner. Hordak stood and left his chambers, fetching his own meal from the kitchens. He ate as he wandered the halls, checking in with the members of his team.

Hortense considered the idea of visiting the Etherian shipyards for only a moment before saying, “That sounds like an excellent idea. I look forward to the trip. I will bring Entrapta a gift from you, so you had best think of something good.” Hordak sputtered for a moment before thanking her for the idea and scuttling off, feeling her smirk burning into his back.

Horst nodded politely at the suggestion of visiting the Etherian shipyards. When Hordask asked him how he kept guessing the arrival of new would-be Horde builders, Horst only replied with a mysterious smile and… a wink. That was the end of that conversation.

Horton seemed excited at the idea of his own field trip. “I will start preparing seeds and clippings right away, brother,” he said. “I have been reading reports from the Fright Zone restoration project, and I’m most excited to see the soil for myself. Thank you for this opportunity, my lord.”

Horatio was busy with the new clones, chatting with them over a meal shared with the castle servants. The servants still seemed awkward around their guests, but Horatio’s charisma could even soften that divide, and they were getting used to acting as ambassadors for Etherian culture to fresh-faced clones. Hordak left them to it.

Finally, he found himself at the top of the Crypto Castle’s tallest spire, looking out over the rocky landscape of Dryl, brown and orange rocks stained purple in the fading light. He leaned against the railing, more relaxed in this moment than he ever allowed himself to be in forty years of conquest. He could just make out the glint of metal from the Bright Moon soldiers stationed on a nearby mountaintop, watching the castle for evidence of Hordak creating a new army. They would find nothing, of course, because Hordak harbored no such ambitions.

Once, Hordak ruled an empire that spanned most of Etheria, commanding legions of loyal soldiers and wrangling the most capable of lieutenants to his control, peerless in his rule.

Now, his empire was a cluttered lab in the heart of Crypto Castle, his only “subordinates” four of his own siblings, and he had many peers now. Peers, and friends.

He was content with his new empire, small though it may be. More content than he had ever been under Prime. More content than he had ever been as the warlord of Etheria.

His hand went to his throat. He no longer needed his exosuit, so now he wore the purple First One crystal as a necklace, set just above the collar to his shirt.

Once, he was feared. Now, he was loved.

There was no doubt in Hordak’s mind about which he preferred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully someone out there gets the joke behind Horatio's name. It's a reference to the space strategy game Endless Space.


End file.
